The shadows were growing dark as the sun sank from the sky, its angled rays deflected by the canopy were barely able to illuminate the growing twilight. Virginia felt a chill go through her at the thought of staying a night away from her friends. Would they even believe that she was alive? How could they? Abducted by a beast in a hellish jungle—what other outcome could there be?
Thought of Lilly and the Quarries filled her with worry, and she decided she had to speak to Gazda.
She would convince him to return her to the tree house—perhaps he’d even stay to help the castaways. His skills would be of great service, and if he were indeed marooned like the others, then he could share in their rescue if they could ever have such luck.
Gazda dropped onto the branch with a dead monkey the size of a small child in the crook of his left arm.
“Ginny,” he said, walking upright toward her, holding the awful creature out.
She drew back from the thing, and Gazda’s expression became puzzled, before he shook his head and made an eating gesture with his free hand.
“After you,” Virginia said, feigning disappointment as she gestured to the wild man. “I’ve filled up on fruit, I’m afraid.”
“Gazda has filled up, too,” the wild man said in English, and then his eyes went round with shock. Clearly, he had surprised himself.
“Gazda, how?” Virginia asked, but the wild man had reverted to his ape-language, chattering, gesturing and swaying in place as he tried to explain.
“You spoke in English, Gazda...” she said, but the only thing he could say that she understood was his name and her own. Replaying the exchange in her mind, she decided he must have only mimicked part of what she had said.
Gazda set the dead monkey aside, squatted and crept closer to Virginia, who moved back into the shelter of her native bower.
“Gazda,” the wild man repeated with a look of concern as he peered over the edge of the branch, worry clearly written on his face.
“What is it? What are you afraid of?” she asked.
The wild man barked and grunted, then rising slightly swung his arms and hooted at something in the jungle below them.
In the fading light, Virginia could see that the long scar over Gazda’s brow gleamed now, bright red against his white skin. She had been surprised to see it earlier, since it was the only such mark she’d seen on his otherwise perfect body.
She had already noticed that the blemish changed color with his passions. Fading to a dull red or blazing crimson if he was moved to deep feeling—as it had earlier when they’d first met.
But Gazda had grown more agitated, peering from their branch at the forest floor. His curiosity drew her in, and she joined him, looking from the heights, and then...
...somewhere close by a great beast roared. The bellow of some feline monster tore through the jungle like it was the first day of the world, but it did not take a wild man to hear the ravenous hunger in the challenge.
Immediately, Virginia’s skin came alive with gooseflesh, and overcome with fear, she wrapped her arms around her chest. It was too much! This was too much!
Gazda sensed her anxiety, so he crept around her and into the mouth of the shelter where he sat and slid his strong arms around her shoulders in a protective embrace.
Virginia stiffened, but the heat radiating from his chest calmed her immediately, and then she melted further as his sinewy hands chafed her forearms where they crossed over her lap.
“Please, Gazda,” she said, rounding her shoulders and making a small effort to lean away from the welcome warmth. “This isn’t right.”
“Ginny,” he said, his voice raw, but powerful. “Right.”
“What do you mean?” she said, half turning in his arms.
“Ginny,” Gazda said, pressing the knuckles of his right hand against her left breast, before he thumped his own chest. “Gazda.”
“We’ve established that,” she answered.
“Stabish tat,” Gazda said, and his eyes slid down to her breasts as his hands massaged her shoulders and arms.
“Please, it isn’t right,” Virginia said, grabbing at his hands, but now his eyes caught hers, and she was unable to look away from the crimson fire that flashed within them.
“Ginny,” Gazda said again, as he tapped the topmost button on her nightdress with a finger, before he set his hands on her hips, and turned her completely around to face him, her legs now slipping over his muscular thighs.
“Wait!” Virginia whispered, and reaching up she unbuttoned the nightdress and slid it up over her head. What was she doing? Who was this man? Why could she not stop herself?
His heart was pounding against her breasts.
Suddenly she had no desire to resist...
Had she not resisted enough already? After a life wasted waiting for a man to return—a life spent in service to a fantasy!
Gazda took the nightdress from her hands while panting and hooting excitedly. He sniffed the material, and pressed it against his lips. Then he grinned at Virginia as he began sliding the garment over his own head and shoulders.
“Gazda!” Virginia cried, laughing when his head popped through the collar and one strong arm slid into the sleeve and got stuck. There was a ripping sound, and the wild man looked at her guiltily.
“No, you’ll ruin it!” Virginia said, moving to gently extricate the man’s thick arm as his eyes settled on her silk undergarments.
He reached out for the lace over her breasts but she pushed his hand away, whispering, “It won’t fit you!”
The wild man’s expression was quizzical.
“And it isn’t your color!” she laughed, unfastening the garment.
Gazda panted thickly, his eyes gleaming with anticipation and excitement as he pushed against her, and she leaned back until she lay there on the thick moss beneath his passionate stare.
She realized that her nightdress was
